Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Netherlands and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Pulsallama to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Chocolate Watch Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Funkadelic,
Shuggie Otis,
Brothers Johnson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sam Rivers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Trumans Water,
Outsiders,
The Cowsills,
Dual Sessions,
Pantytec,
The Divine Comedy,
The Misunderstood,
Jandek,
Tubeway Army,
X-Ray Spex,
Terry Callier,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Harmonia,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Moleskins,
Alphaville,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mary Jane Girls,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Metal Thangz,
Aural Exciters,
Roy Ayers,
The Wake,
DNA,
Second Layer,
Whodini,
Absolute Body Control,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lyres,
Clear Light,
Tres Demented,
David Bowie,
B.T. Express,
Parry Music,
The Techniques,
Rakim,
AZ,
Qualms,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Motions,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ultravox,
The Index,
Deakin,
Rapeman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Seeds,
Gichy Dan,
Scrapy,
Henry Cow,
The Modern Lovers,
Piero Umiliani,
Roxy Music,
The Sonics,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.